His Sense of Duty
by equinechic
Summary: Faramir finds himself in a situation involving some friendly and some not so friendly Haradrim. Mainly an experiment.


**This was basically inspired from Faramir's/Sam's (depends if yoiu're going by book or movie) little speech on the dead Haradrim soldier. Um...so it doesn't have Tolkien's genius all over it...or anywhere in it really, but hey, we can't all be great, right? Then how would we have anything to measure greatness by if some of us (points to self) weren't...not so great...ok, so enjoy! Oh, if there's any mistakes, I take full responsibility...obviously. I also decided not to give te other charcter a name, one, because it saved me te time of thinking of one, and two, because if it were me in the situation, I wouldn't want my name revealed, even to us readers, kay? Right...so here you go!**

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His Sense of Duty

A cloaked man walked through the woods silently. There were two problems. First, he shouldn't have been alone, but he was, second…he wasn't really alone, as he would soon discover. The man was hunched, as though very weary. He had been traveling for a great distance. He was on his way to his post in Ithilien; however he had made a _short_ detour to visit a friend in Lamedon, in the opposite direction! If ever his father found out, and he prayed that he didn't, he would have his hide strung up with the wash. But he had to go to Lamedon, there was no way around it, his friend had been sick.

Faramir sighed. The fever was dreadful, and sad though he was, he could only rejoice that he was no longer suffering, the fever having claimed his friend. But now time was chasing after him, and he had to get to Henneth Annûn before Damrod came searching for him. To make up some of the lost time he hadn't camped the night before, and he was lagging because of it. His senses weren't as acute as they normally were, and he was caught in a daydream of hot roasted chicken when his feet suddenly flew from beneath him.

Instantly on alert, for it was no tree root that had faltered him, he drew his sword. Out of the brush came flying a rock and struck him on the hand, hard, causing him to drop his sword. Cursing himself for dropping his weapon his eyes went on alert, looking for the best place and moment to retrieve his weapon. Before he could move, two men were upon him.

He threw the first one down and brought his fist on his face. Southrons, two filthy looking Southrons. _Deserters_, he thought as he blocked a wild swing from the second. He cocked his arm back and found himself suddenly held from behind. The taller of the foreigners held his arms locked behind him while the other decided to have fun with Faramir's face. After the third blow the world suddenly spun out of control and Faramir felt himself slipping away. Another punch landed and he found himself welcoming the darkness.

His reprieve was short. He was jarred painfully back to consciousness as his body hit the ground. Seeing their capture awake, the short one sent his foot into hi chest. Faramir made a wild grab for the heavily booted foot and by some miracle caught it, but was too weary to stop it. The foot crashed into his chest and he cried out in agony. Three more times the foot fell before the darkness finally claimed him again.

"He's out." The Southron nudged the unconscious man in the head with his toe. "Search him, anything that will pay our passage out of this land. Take his food too, just in case, take it all." He landed another kick at his side and stood. "Let's get out of here before they find us."

Pain was such a small word yet it said so much for what he was feeling right now. His head felt as though it were being slowly forced open and he had to force himself to drag n each ragged breath, his chest hurt so bad. His face felt bruised and swollen, he couldn't even open his eyes for the swelling was so bad. He dare not move for the pain he knew it would cause him. he didn't know how much time had passed but he had to get moving before his men got too worried, or someone else found him. Faramir struggled to lift his head, step by step he would get there. His head rolled to the side and he was back into oblivion.

It was nearing nightfall and he had to hasten. The two rebels would be long gone if they didn't find them soon. That's why he and the other four men had decided to spilt up an hour earlier; so they could cover more ground and hopefully catch the deserters before they caused any real harm. They were supposed to be traveling in secrecy, but with those two idiots on the loose he knew all would be lost.

The Southron shook his head in frustration. If only he could be home already. His son had just started talking but he wasn't there to hear it. He didn't want to miss out on his first steps too! He ran a tired hand over his face and sighed. Now he knew why he never saw his dad growing up. It was amazing, even now, five years after his death, how much he still missed his father sometimes. This was one of those times. he shook his head again, brushing the thoughts from his mind, and squinted into the dying light. He shook his head again, for surely that wasn't a body he lying there?

He could have walked away, he should have walked away; it was one of those Gondorian folk. But somehow he knew; those two cowards were responsible.

"Don't try to move, it will only cause you more pain." Faramir groaned in response. Damrod had finally found him. He could hear a rough fire crackling near by and he was almost beginning to feel warm at last.

"The swelling should go down soon; I've been putting cool water on it to help." Faramir groaned again. Damrod was acting like a fool, he had a heavy accent, and if he didn't know better, he would have said that he sounded like one of the soldiers from Harad.

"Your men, I deem, will be looking for you soon." Something in Faramir's heart went cold and he could swear it stopped beating for a moment. He fought the pain clutching his heart, forcing his eyes open at last, desperately praying he was wrong. Ignoring the screaming protests his body shot backwards like a cat from water. He struggled to get away but his body refused to move any longer, he had spent all his adrenaline and his energy was gone. He lay there panting for a moment before the darkness claimed him again.

The man across the fire bowed his head and sighed. No matter your intent, it seemed that some people would only ever see you as one thing. In this case, he was the enemy, not his savior.

It was another thirty minutes before the man made another movement. The Southron was somewhat uneasy in his presence, but that was to be expected. Upon removing the man's cloak, he discovered that he was not only from Gondor, but also one of the rangers that so fervently hunted his kind. Still, the men that he fought alongside with were the ones responsible for this unjust act and he felt he should do something. They were all men here, not like the orcs; he couldn't understand how anyone sided with those creatures, babbling fools, the whole lot of them. Still, it couldn't be helped.

The man before him grunted in pain, and he helped move him, as best he could, to a more comfortable position. "Please do not try to move, again, it will only cause you more pain."

"Wise words coming from the one that helped cause it." The Southron looked down and saw a pair of weary eyes looking up at him. There was no fear in them however, this soldier, he could tell, refused to show his fear again.

"I am sorry. When we catch them, they will pay for their actions. Desertion deserves punishment enough; this shall earn them another sound beating, if not more.

Faramir attempted a smile. "To think, so much pain caused on my behalf." His face sobered once again after a moment of reflection. "Why do you help me?"

"I am a soldier. It is part of my duty to look after other soldiers, is it not? Although it may be implied otherwise, they never said it had to be soldiers on your side, did they?" The light humor seemed to be the only thing keeping them from lapsing back into silence. "I can not help but feel responsible. I knew those men, yesterday I may have even called them friends, today I call them cowards. I am ashamed to say we have men like that fighting on our side, men that would run given a chance, attack travelers and steal their money. You are only lucky they were in a hurry, had they seen you were a ranger, they would have killed you for sure."

"And you do not?"

"As I said, I am ashamed of them; I feel it is only right to do so. If the others were to find out though…"

"I see." Faramir let his eyes slide back shut; the weight of his eyelids had become far o heavy to keep them open any longer. He let out a moan in pain thinking of how he would ever get back. He decided it was best not to think of that for now. "So, do you have a name?"

"Would you offer yours so freely? I did not think so. I think perhaps it is best we forget names. For now, I am your rescuer, and you, you are in much need of help." He touched his hand to the man's brow as he spoke and found with dismay that a fever was settling upon the man. He looked down at the ranger before him and found that he had already slipped back asleep.

"Please, I need you to wake up. Only for a moment, come on." He coaxed the man back into the waking world slowly so as not to frighten him. "Look at me, there you go." His eyes were bright with fever, this scared him. He had to get him back to his own, and soon. He couldn't take care of this man out here, not like this. But he was not fit for travel either. There was no way he would tell him where his out post was anyways, so that put a further jam on things. "No, stay with me, stay awake." He tapped him gently on the cheek.

He eased the man's head onto his lap and unstopped a water skin. However brief, he saw the doubt flicker in his eyes. "Water, I swear to you, and nothing else." Faramir allowed his head to be raised and swallowed the refreshing water greedily. He let it settle in his stomach a minute before attempting speech.

"I need to get back to my men, the others will be missing me, I need to get back."

"Yes, I can't care for you out here for much longer, and my commander will soon be wondering if too deserted. I'm certain you're commander will be wondering where you are too."

Inwardly Faramir smiled. "No, I'm sure he's not to worried on my whereabouts." The world was starting to go dark again and he began to shiver from the fever. A heavy cloak found its way around him and he opened his with a silent thanks to his new companion. The crackle of the fire slowly died away and all he could hear was the sound of his beating heart resounding heavily in his head. He knew he couldn't do this much longer.

The sun rose the next morning and both men knew something had to be done. Faramir was barely able to breathe his chest was bruised so badly and the Haradrim soldier knew he had to report back soon; else he would land himself in vast amounts of trouble. It was an unspoken agreement; they had to move, now.

The unnamed Southron helped the struggling ranger to sit up and steadied him for a moment while he waited for his head to stop spinning.

Faramir let out a gasp of pain and nearly passed back out. This was going to be harder than he thought. But not as painful as it would be if he didn't get back. Oh there would be blood to pay if his father ever found out. Somehow this encouraged him and he found himself on his feet. He had to lean heavily on the other man just to stand, he didn't know how they were ever going to walk. And how was he ever going to get back? He could have this man, this enemy, helpful though he was, take him straight to their outpost, that would be his head right there. But he couldn't make it more than two steps on his own. By now Damrod and Mablung would have men keeping a keen eye out for him, if not outright searching for him, as he was supposed to have arrived three days ago. Perhaps if they got close enough, the soldier from Harad could just leave him and the others would find him. Then again, if they didn't…this was the military, risks had to be taken.

"Just take me two miles east, I'll have to make do on my own from there."

The walk was perhaps the longest either of them had ever endured. One, leaning heavily upon the other, both bowed other from exhaustion near the end. Many times the one stumbled, eventually they both did. Finally it was enough.

"Stop, I can go no further, nor should I be leading you any nearer. I have to stop." He collapsed on the ground panting. The other helped make him as comfortable as possible. He then emptied what was left of his water skin into the other man's. Finally he uttered some words of hope that they would both live to see the end of the day, for he would have to answer to his commander now, of where he had been the last twenty four hours. With one last touch to his fevered brow, he said his farewell.

"Take care, friend." His quiet footsteps quickly disappeared and Faramir was left alone. The ground seemed strangely harder than usual as he lay upon it and he had an insanely strong urge to curl up in his bed and sleep. Well, bed or not, that's what he was going to do either way. He was passed out from exhaustion before he knew it.

Two maybe three hours later he heard voices in the distance. He knew these voices, they sounded familiar. They were calling his name, but they sounded so far away. "I'm right here." He yelled as loud as his body allowed.

"I know, I can see that." Faramir peeled his eyes open. Dark eyes met his and he smiled.

"Damrod."

"Aye, I'm here. I'm glad to see you're still here too, we thought we lost you sir.

"No, unfortunately I'm still alive." He sighed and closed his eyes again.

"What happened to you?"

"Haradrim." Plain and simple. The scum had attacked him, and then helped him; it was all in their opinion of duty.

"You'll be alright now." He wrapped his cloak close around him and signaled Anborn closer. Between the two of them they carried Faramir back to Henneth Annûn.

Mablung's arms were around him the second he saw him, nearly suffocating him from relief. Again they asked, what happened?

"All just a sense of duty." Was all Faramir would say before he slipped deep into the darkness for the remainder of the day.

When next he woke he felt strong enough to hold the cup of water offered him, and with help, could sit up for a few minutes. Mablung had to help him with the broth they were trying to stuff in him; it tasted vile. As he settled himself back down Mablung tucked the blanket close around him. Faramir flashbacked to the Southron covering him with his cloak.

He wondered what his name was, and where he was from, or if ever he would get back home. Yes it was the Southrons that had left him in this state, but he would be forever grateful to that one, the nameless soldier that had helped him. Though they might be on different sides, clearly there was some common ground, some cause that was the same, they were both soldiers in this life, at times words were passed, at others, swords were the only communication.

Faramir's eyes snapped open. His father _was_ going to kill him; those two skulking Haradrim had taken his sword!


End file.
